Caged Bird
by Wandering Cat
Summary: She couldn't help but be jealous of the bird she set free. The moment he flew out the window, nobody could control him. Nobody could force him into marriage. Nobody could force him away from the one he loved. Madelyn fic! COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Caged Bird**  
Wandering Cat  
Written with the poem Sympathy in mind.  
Chapter ONE of...maybe THREE.  
Finally, I sat down and wrote the thing. I've been trying to get the time, but I couldn't, and not only that, I couldn't think of how to go about doing it. But I finally did, so there.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem or any of its characters, though I really wish I did. 

semi-IMPORTANT NOTE: Chances are I got something wrong here. I don't remember much about Marquess Araphen. Actually, I barely know anything about him. Even his name, if it were even given, so I gave him one. I hereby dub him...uh...Cecil. Yeah, that's good. **Marguess Araphen Cecil.** It could be worse. Madelyn needed a bird, so I gave her one, and named it Apollo. Why? Because I always wanted a pet pigeon, and if I got one, I'd name it Apollo (or Faye). I'm just cool like that. Oh yeah, I also made him pretty annoying. While he doesn't hate the nomads, I gave him a really negative attitude toward them. Yes, I am mocking him. He hates the Sacaens because Hassar was cooler than him.

ACUTALLY IMPORTANT NOTE: As stated before, I wrote this fic with the poem "Sympathy" in mind. Of course, I came up with the idea weeks ago, and now I can't find my freaking copy of the poem. I remember some of it, but not enough. If you want to read it, I'm sure you can find it online. It's a great poem.  
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_ The scene was peaceful. Birds fluttering outside her window, flowers in bloom, white fully clouds in the sky. The perfect scene to paint. Lady Madelyn of Caelin looked up from the tray she mixed her paints in, casting another dreamy look outside her window, deciding which birds to use, where to put them, and whether or not to add her windowsill and curtains to the painting._

A soft chirp brought her back to her senses. Madelyn smiled and stood, walking over to her beloved pet bluejay. He chirped again, clinging to the side of the cage.

"What is it, Apollo?"

With a small cluck, Apollo jumped to the opposite side of the cage, toward his master, and rapped on a bar with his beak. His head jerked toward the window, where a small bluejay sat perched on the outside sill. Madelyn gave a gentle smile and opened the cage's latch, offering her hand to the bird. He jumped on it watching, gratefully as she moved to open the window and set him free.  
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Sigh...

It was soon becoming her favorite sound. Cecil, the new Marquess Araphen, just kept bantering on, despite the fact that it was fairly obvious she wasn't listening.

"...and that's why Araphen is so powerful! Not even those foul Sacaen dogs can penetrate it forces!" Cecil (AN: hah) finished.

A wave of relief crossed Madelyn's features. He stood and flamboyantly offered his hand. Madelyn took it, faking a smile, and making sure to wipe it on the back of her dress when he let go of it. She never liked meeting with the other nobles; they were quite annoying at times. She really had no right to talk, because she could do it with no end, but she also knew when to control it. A hand thrust into her vision brought a sense of dread into her system. Marquess Araphen was asking her to dance.

Unable to refuse, or even talk without shouting something along the lines of "Could you be any more annoying?", she merely nodded and took the hand (and added a mental note to wash vigorously later).

"You know what? I've been thinking. The Sacaens are so dumb, I bet I could get them to work for me for free!"

Madelyn's eyes widened slightly, and her ears began ringing again. Doom! This man is doom in nobles' clothing!_  
_------------------------------------  
The two memories had opposite effects on her. The first gave her a warm joy, the second made her skin crawl. Two weeks after she released Apollo, she was pleased to watch him building a nest with the same bluejay that had waited for him outside her window. Two weeks after Cecil released her, she still couldn't get the weird feeling out of her. She asked a maid, one of her closest friends, about it. The friend said it was love. Madelyn burst into a rather unladylike fit of laughter. The memory itself brought her to giggles, causing a cocked eyebrow from one companion and a warm smile from the other.

"...Lady?" the first one said.

The chuckles stopped abruptly. Madelyn looked to where a tall, tan-skinned man sat cleaning a bow next to a huge bald man in silver armor.

"Now, Hassar! Why did you ruin milady's contemplation? She may have been planning her wedding with Marquess Araphen!" the latter boomed.

Madelyn could feel her heart sink; she would never forget the day her father told her of it. He had arranged a marriage between Cecil and her. "Madelyn, I know you don't want this," he'd said. "But Caelin is a bit of trouble right now, and this will help immensely. I know he's annoying at times, but he'll grow on you, I promise." That was the single most devastating moment in her life.

Wallace, the bald general, stood with a loud clanking. He bade the princess and archer a quick farewell and a promise to return in a few minutes, muttering something about writing a manual of some sort. Left with nobody but the strange archer, Madelyn couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. She was required to watch the novice knights train every so often, and Wallace and the other man were to be her bodyguards. Needless to say, being that she didn't even know the man's name, it was a little awkward.

"Excuse me sir, but I don't think I've seen you before. Are you new?" she asked politely, in an attempt to lighten the air around them.

He looked up from his bow, studied her a bit, and nodded. "My name is Hassar. Three months ago, met Wallace. He suggested that I work here for a while before going home."

"Where are you from?"

This time, Hassar ignored her in favor of the bow. For a while he waited, before looking up again. "...Sacae. I am a son of the Lorca." he stated, not a hint of shame in his voice.

His confession caused Madelyn to start. She had never seen a nomad up close. In the paintings she'd seen in Castle Araphen, nomads were depicted as ugly, hairy, uncivilized _creatures_. The man before her was...handsome, a thousand fold more than the nomads in the pictures. Longish, straight green hair, unlike the wavy brown that was expected of Caelin's citizens. Sharp, almost frightening, blue-green eyes, under thin eyebrows, one cocked in wonderment. Tan, anglular face. She wondered how, if every nomad looked like this, they could be mistaken for the man-beasts in the paintings.

His eyes held her captive. A strength shone behind them, courage and honor woven between the teal threads.

A weird feeling wormed its way into her stomach.  
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Wandering Cat: Okay, that's all I can take for now. This is the first chapter. I don't know how many there will be, probably three or something like that. I'll make sure to tell ya. This was pretty tough. Because now, I have to have a storyline. Oh crap. I smell it in the future.

For anyone who cares, the next chapter will hopefully be up witthin a month. No, I will not be working on it. I always take my fics in sittings, though I try my hardest. Review, if you like.


	2. Chapter 2

**Caged Bird**, chapter 2  
**Wandering Cat**

  
Hey, y'all. Second chapter up, and it didn't take a month for me to get another two hours to write, yay!  
**Review Responses:  
Lemurian-Girl:** I hope you keep reading. The other MadelynHassar fic is by Houyouko, right? I loved that one. Yeah, I hated the whole sudden "weird feeling" too, but it was all I could come up with, and I wanted to get done. It was one of those "bang head off keyboard" moments. I did try to justify it, though. Try being the keyword.  
PS-thank you for reviewing Till Your Binds Break as well.POWER TO THE RATHFICS!**  
someperson**: Thanks. Well, there's only one other fic on this site that has it, see Lemurian-Girl's response.

**IceBlade28: **Just promise me you'll dish out a fic soon. And yeah, Marquess Araphen does suck. Which is why I gave him a crappy name like Cecil (Though I do like it).

**Pheonifire1389: **Amusing wasn't really what I was aiming for, but thank you all the same. Trust me, I won't abandon this sucker any time soon. Except for when I finish it.

Thanks guys!

Notes and crap for this chapter: If you read Lemurian-Girl's review response above, you know that I hated the way I ended Chapter 1. So here's me trying to justify it. Also, I'm trying to place some Lyn-ness in Madelyn. Proud, headstrong, etc.  
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Madelyn lay on her back, heart pounding and mouth dry from here meeting just an hour before. Sunlight still filtered through her windows and cast beams across her face; they illuminated the strained expression on her face.

She'd had "crushes" before, on some of the handsome noble boys who visited frequently and on high-ranking knights. But never on a mercenary, and never in her wildest dreams would her frivolous affection lay on a _Sacaen._

What's worse, she thought with a small blush, _is that I know nothing about the man! I fell in...I just like him for his looks! _(AN: That's the best I came up with...)__

She let out another guilty, frustrated sigh, then sat up suddenly in her bed, making a mess for a maid to clean up later. An idea had struck her with the last sigh.

_ If I get to know the man, I surely could never like him, _she reasoned.

With that, she leapt off the mattress and strode confidently to the door. She paused and though for a moment about how suspicious she would look, and took on a more calm expression before stepping out the door.

Of course, there had to be a snag. And of course, the snag had to be important. She had no idea where he'd be, since he was no longer on duty. If he were in the barracks, her plan would come to a crashing halt. The princess asking for a mercenary by name would definitely look odd; it'd look worse because she couldn't start asking random questions of him in front of everyone, nor could she take him somewhere private. Madelyn kept going, though, hoping to find him outside somewhere, perhaps practicing his archery.

He wasn't in the barracks. That could be either good or bad for her; good because the aforementioned disasters couldn't take place, bad because he could be anywhere in the vast castle grounds. Madelyn stopped to think. After a few minutes and impossible ideas, she came to a reasonable conclusion. The man was a nomad, and so it was likely that he enjoyed being in nature, and judging by his tan, he spent a lot of time in the sun. So, Madelyn asked herself, where does the castle get the most sun at this time? The answer came quickly. Many times, she had visited a small clearing in the woods with her father where sun seemed to shine from morning to dusk. Perhaps Hassar the nomad had discovered that place, too.

As she picked through the familiar woods, a faint melody wafted to her, gaining strength as she got closer. It was a slow, low pitched song, perhaps a requiem that began easing her frustrated heart from the moment she began hearing it. For a moment, fear and insurity swept through her. Who knew who could be playing that song, be it a mercenary, Hassar or not, or an idiotic assassin? Her fear was laid to rest, thankfully, as the chestnut stallion she recognized as Hassar's horse came into view, wandering around untethered eating grass. The song came from above him. Madelyn cautiously drew closer, and soon could see the man she hoped to find seated comfortably in a crook of branches, playing a wooden flute.

For a moment, he paused as the wind shifted and blew a branch aside. Light which was previously eclipsed now flowed onto the nomad's face, as well as highlighting a few birds that fluttered in front of him. One landed on his knee, a familiar bluejay, and instead of brushing it off, the nomad and reached out and stroked it's head gently with one finger.

The feeling jumped in her stomach again, and with it another wave of frustration. Nevertheless, she calmed herself down, thinking of a way to approach him. "Pardon me, sir Hassar!" she called. He stopped playing without so much as a startled twitch and looked down upon her. With all the gracefulness of a monkey, the nomad leapt from the branches, despite being ten feet from the ground, and landed with a dull thump on the long clean grass.

"What is it that brings you out here, milady...?" he asked, 'the' eyebrow raising itself again, and Madelyn almost laughed; it was one of the most annoying habits she'd ever known, but...endearing all the same. She shook the thought from her head.

"I..." it was then that another snag hit her; she had been so concerned with just finding the man that she hadn't thought of how to approach him. "I was just wondering, what's it like in Sacae?" _Hopefully it's nothing like Cecil says..._

Hassar's usually impassive eyes took on a warmth. He didn't reply for some time, several minutes. He merely gazed back up at the tree he had been roosting in. The branch that had blown aside and cast light on him had moved back to where it belonged. Madelyn came to expect that he was ignoring her, and was about to voice her disapproval, when he spoke.

"This tree is the tallest here, yet it is still only this big. It is as tall as Sacaen trees get. For some reason...your oaks are taller than ours."

His answer surprised Madelyn. She couldn't fathom why he would tell her about trees, when she had asked of his culture. Again, her comments were cut off as he talked again.

"Despite the fact that your oaks are larger, ours stand just as strong. They are sturdy. We have cut down few trees in Sacae...There is no need, for there are few forests...and the ones we have are left alone." he said. "Your people cut down a forest worth of trees each day. With each oak and maple felled comes greed. With greed comes the change and weakening of your land. We have cut down few trees and changed little of our culture. For that, the gods have given us prosperity. Your people try to cut down our forests, but we defend them. Even when your people cut down our trees, they grow back quickly, stronger than ever."

This time, the princess was dumbstruck. She could tell now that he wasn't talking about trees. He was comparing their cultures. Hers was large and mighty; theirs was small but strong. Her people...were greedy; his were not. Her people, everyone but the Sacaens themselves, look down on them, yet they hold strong. She had never before realized that the Sacaens were the only ones with a unique way of life, save for the few people in Nabata. Though rage at his comments arose in her, respect came with them. To think that his people were bullied simply for being what they are...

The respect drove her to politely ask him more. He obliged, telling her of rituals, colorful dances, and the many folklores of the plains. Her favorite by far was the story of Hanon, a female horseman that she knew was part of the Scouring, but he told her not of her heroic deeds and skill with a bow, but the strong, steady heart that beat within her. He spoke of the other many traditions, not just of culture but within the people themselves. He claimed that any Sacaen worth his or her name doesn't lie. She believed him without a second thought. In turn, he listened as she argued against his stating that his people were greedy, pointing out the many selfless knights in service to lords—whom she admitted could be corrupt—and the bishops who carried salvation to victims of war and other hardships. She told him of the rich dances and art that her people enjoyed, rich and poor.

He listened, and told her, "I cannot say I understand your culture as a whole, nor your nobility…But I can say that if it were to spawn a pure being such as you, I was wrong to think so harshly of your people, just as yours are too harsh on mine."

Madelyn blushed and smiled. The sunset was not orange behind where they had made a bench of a felled tree. Both had their separate way to go, he to the barracks before his commander noticed he was gone, and she to the castle before someone had a fit over it.

As they said their simple, friendly goodbyes, Madelyn noticed that the feeling in her stomach had moved upward toward her heart and swelled.

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WC: Aw crap, I did it again. Ah well. It sounds a lot better this time, though.

Notes: Hassar's rant about trees/humanity: I liked that a lot. Even if it was a little long. Also, I decided from reading stuff about FE6 that Hanon was a girl. Sorta weird how they'd follow a girl in legends, but the Lorca wouldn't follow Lyn when they were about to get annihilated.

Next chapter will probably be the last!


	3. Chapter 3

**Caged Bird  
Wandering Cat**

Eh...heh. Totally put it off...it's been, what? Three months? Must be...I think. When did I last update Caged Bird? I'd check if I were really motivated...I'm saving my motivation for now, though...  
**  
Review Responses:**  
**IceBlade28:** Yeah, thanks. I'm pretty sure Hanon is a girl...  
**Lemurian-Girl**: Yeah. I did Rath fics while procrastinating. At least I wasn't just sitting idle...

Also, this chapter was inspired by YuYu Hakusho. This morning's episode, Riezen (sp?) talked about his wife/girlfriend/mate-type person, and it made me think of Madelyn and Hassar...well, not really, but it did remind me to finish this fic.

Disclaimer: I don't own FE, duh. If I did, the Path of Radiance supports wouldn't suck so much and Tanith would be more important...uh...Read the poem!  
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_I know what the caged bird feels, alas! _

_When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;  
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,  
And the river flows like a stream of glass;  
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,  
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals--  
I know what the caged bird feels!_

I know why the caged bird beats his wing  
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;   
For he must fly back to his perch and cling  
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;  
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars  
And they pulse again with a keener sting--  
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,  
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,--  
When he beats his bars and he would be free;  
It is not a carol of joy or glee,  
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,  
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings--  
I know why the caged bird sings!

The past few months had been the best of her life. She'd spent hours at a time simply listening to Hassar's yarns and adding bits of her own. Sometimes, he lost track and told a story more than once. Sometimes, she asked him to. Hanon's tales were told at least once a week. He spoke of the swift, strong steeds like the one he owned. He spoke of a fable that involved a black mare, who saved a town with her deeds, leading a pack of wolves from the town, and earning a place in the stars. One time, she stayed out very late, and he pointed the horse out to her. She called it a constellation. He called it a mighty spirit. He spoke fondly of the plains. Madelyn wanted to see them so badly. She asked, and he promised.

But all of that, all of her happiness, was to be no more. She and Marquess Araphen,--obnoxious, greasy Cecil--were to wed in three days. Her world was shattering like thin glass.

Through all of the time she spent with Hassar, Madelyn had not once thought of Cecil. When a man drowns, he should think of the ones he loved and the things he liked to do. Marriage to Cecil sounded like drowning.

So she forgot about Cecil and thought of Hassar instead. Because it felt like she was drowning, and since she loved him, he made it feel better. Madelyn admitted it to herself not so long ago, but not to Hassar. _Never_ to Hassar. Neither would be able stand the pain.

She knew he loved her. It was in his eyes and voice, though the words were never spoken. Not to herself, at least. Never to herself. Neither would be able to stand the pain.

She remembered being ashamed of herself, liking a man for his face. She still liked the face, but his eyes and spirit (he once said, "everything a person is on the inside makes up their spirit") were better. Cecil...his face was nice. She could say that. But he had a dark, dank spirit. He continued to rant, in the letters she recieved but barely read, about how horrid the nomads were. She didn't feel like writing back. He wasn't worth it.  
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Madelyn dropped onto her bed, despite the protests from her maids. Earlier was the practice wedding. Cecil looked so happy. It must have been the best day of his life. It could only get better. It was the worst day or her life for her. And it could only get worse.

"Lady, you're still in the wedding dress. Can't have in wrinkled for your big day, can you?" one maid said. With a defeated sigh, Madelyn sat back up and allowed the maids to help her out of the white death trap of lace and silk.

Hours later, Madelyn retreated back to her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. _Hassar.._._I'm so sorry... _Tears quickly began flowing down her delicate face, and she made no move to stop them.

Out of nowhere, her heart began beating frantically. _I can't! I won't do this to him! Not for Cecil, not for father. Oh, father, I'm so sorry..._ With a new burst of energy, she sat upright in her bed, deciding what to do. She walked across the room, to where she had released Apollo months ago. She could see him and the other bluejay fluttering around their nest, happy and free. "It is time I free myself!"  
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There was a dull 'thunk' outside Hassar's window. It was getting really annoying, and he just wanted to sleep through the next week or so. He couldn't bare to see Madelyn married off to another man, let alone one she didn't even like. What's worse, it was her beloved father's doing. In Sacae, man chooses who has the right to court his daughter, who he would trust with her. But the daughter chooses her husband. He couldn't help but wish that Caelin could be the same.

THUNK!

Hassar clenched his teeth and fisted a handful of bedding. THUNK! Accompanied by a furious cry, he leapt from bed, determined to stop the source of the noise dead in its tracks...literally, if possible.

Instead of a particularly heavy woodpecker, Hassar found his liege, dressed in a plain tunic and pants, a rock in hand, outside his window. Started by his wild appearance, Madelyn dropped the rock she'd used to get his attention. Hassar merely stared at her, surprised to see her out so vaguely wondering how she'd escaped the intricate guard. "...Madelyn...?" he whispered, climbing through the window.

She immediately burst into tears and threw her arms around his torso. Hassar was now officially lost, but stroked the back of her wavy brown head in hopes of ceasing her frantic sobs. She said only two words, and he understood: "I can't!"

"I'll get my horse." was all he had to say.

Neither noticed a bleary-eyed, but otherwise alert pageboy widen said eyes and run toward the castle.  
---------------------------------  
"WHAT?"

The page shrunk back even more, staring fearfully at the Marquess. His face had become red with fury. Beside him, Wallace rubbed his eyes wearily, though not from sleep. The forlorn mercenary and secretly miserable princess were running away, most likely to Sacae. _Of all the people...It had to be the ones who need it most... _Wallace thought.

Hausen was breathing hard, clutching the arm rests of his throne. He was in his sleeping clothes, having been dragged out of bed, because a page had important news. Never, not in a million years, would he have thought his own daughter would _betray _him.

"I-It's t-true, sir...Lady Madelyn was all crying, and Hassar was holding her. She-she said, "I cant'," and he said something about getting his horse...I'm really sorry, please forgive me for bringing this news..." said the page, quivering still underneath the marquess' burning gaze.

"..." Hausen sighed, putting a hand over his eyes. "It's not your fault, boy. Leave me." He slumped back in his chair as the page ran away. "Why would she do this, Wallace?...Why?"

Wallace moved from the king's side, standing in front of him instead. "May I speak freely, milord?"

"Yes, Wallace."

"You've been selfish. Madelyn does not love Marquess Araphen, and Caelin does not need his help badly enough to ruin her princess' life." All traces of Wallace's cockiness and pride had left his voice, leaving a grave soldier behind.

The truth stung Hausen. His face flamed again, and he bolted off of his throne. "How dare you accuse me of doing wrong when I do only what is necessary! Madelyn knows that her happiness is the happiness of all Caelin, and she must do what she can to ensure happiness! Bring me my daughter, Wallace!"

"But, milord--"

"Bring me my daughter, Wallace!"

Hausen's eyes were hard, and Wallace's grew grim. "As you wish, milord."  
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WC: I'm really sorry, but I need to stop here. Dangit. I wanted to finish, but NOOOOO.


	4. Chapter 4

**Caged Bird**, chapter 4

**Wandering Cat**

Oh, hello, there. Long time no see. Seriously, I honestly forgot this fic wasn't finished and then I lost interest in writing. Looking back on this fic, thankfully I'm not too ashamed of it, because that would kill the mood all over again. I sort of remember where I was going with this, so I should be able to come up with an ending suitable for it.

Thank you, BadluckGoodluck and sinfully slow bots; the former for faving/alerting this fic, and the latter for finally giving me the e-mail alerts more than a year later. I got them half an hour ago, today.

And so, to finally get this off my freaking conscience, the fic will be finished soon. **NOTE**: My computer, for some reason, does not have MS Word anymore. Therefore, I am using a generic wordpad. Hopefully, the format won't be screwy. Additionally, there are certain thoughts/other parts that should be itatlicized, but aren't. This is due to having to copy and paste the fic from one writing thing to another.

Disclaimer: I don't own no FE.

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The darkness faded around them as their steed's heavy footfalls echoed in the night. At this moment, several hours into their flight, the runaways could not afford to slow down or otherwise quell the noise; for now, they had a head start, and it was absolutely necessary that it be used in its fullest. The only precaution taken was an alternative path through the forest, so no matter the noise they made, no human would be around to hear. Soon they would be away from the harsh stone pathways and well-beaten trails.

They both knew that no matter how loudly the man on the throne thundered (louder, even, than the steady, deafening thuds that now polluted the air), it takes time for soldiers to prepare themselves for any journey. And that time was precious to them. That time could be the difference between happiness and certain despair.

Each long stride brought them closer to their destination in the North-east. If they traveled quickly, they could make it in one weeks' time. (1)

------------------------------

Wallace raised a heavy arm to wipe his shining brow. He looked across the cluttered courtyard, at the drowsy troops who assembled there by order of the Lord Hausen. Several men stood at rapt attention, other slumped against their lances.

"Sir," a tall, alert redhead stepped into view and quickly gave a crisp salute. "The troops are ready when you are. Lord Hausen commands that we leave immediately."

The general dropped his arm. _Hassar, you cad! I've stalled as long as I could! It's all up to you now._

Wallace drew himself up to his full, impressive height. "Men! Wake up and stand tall! We've a princess to retrieve. Lay not one hand or cut on her... but her companion..._ Do what must be done_."

He hope nobody saw him wince.

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The trees lessened, the paths narrowed, the darkness lingered. The border drew closer... maybe. Honestly, he didn't know why he didn't think to plot a course before they became fugitives. That was a terrible oversight on his part, and one he couldn't possible tell her. He needed to know specifically where they were, but the comforting North Star told him that they were, at least, traveling in the correct direction.

Hassar held the map as close to his candle as he safely could as Madelyn fretted close by. When he looked up, he could see her profile in the pale light of a waning moon. He could see her fear. Silently, he set his map and candle on the ground and strode over to his... beloved. There was no point in denying anything now. Those few words spoken before they left the castle in their wake spoke more in their sparse letters than it would seem.

Madelyn started out of her mind when she felt a pair of arms circle her shoulders, but she relaxed against them nonetheless. At the same time, she remembered why she was here, in the middle of nowhere, running from everything she had ever known.

_No_, she told herself._ I'm running _toward _my bright future. With Hassar. He's everything I've always known I wanted. Right now, that's all I know. That's all I need to know._

One arm slid off of her while the other stayed firmly in place. She was turned around gently by the remaining arm and he reached out to put his free hand on her shoulder. "We are headed in the right direction. One week, and we're at the border. We'll be free."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. They have no choice. Once we are within Sacaen borders, I will have my power back. I will grant you sanctuary. (2)"

She sighed with relief and sunk against him. Hassar gave her a quick, firm hug, but his face was troubled. _They could attack me. They won't hurt her, but my laws may mean nothing to Caelin. We can't be idle right now. _

His spirit sunk a little lower as he released her from their embrace and motioned for her to get back on his horse, refreshed from their brief pause. He gathered his belongings and stuffed them back in the saddle bag, heart heavy. He was beginning to feel worried. He needed hope.

Madelyn pressed against his back as he climbed in front of her in the saddle. He needed courage. She was tired, Hassar could tell, and so he let her rest against him. He was too, and he couldn't let it show. He needed strength and stamina.

His love wrapped her arms around his waist. "I love you.", she whispered into the back of his neck.

And that alone was more than he could ever ask for.

-----------------------

Bleary-eyed citizens cracked their windows to see what all the noise and commotion was about. A small cluster of soldiers charged and clamored down the main road of the city. The people were left to wonder what was going on as the group passed their windows. Little did they know they could lose their princess that night. And by the gods, they wouldn't, if Lord Hausen had anything to say about it.

The large man he placed at the head of this expedition was not as sure.

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"_She ran away?!" _Marques Araphen bellowed. Lord Hausen remained still in his throne. The man kneeling before him was haggard with rage, breathing roughly and heavily.

The outcry rang out in the silent morning. Pale sunlight filtered through the grand windows of the Castle Caelin's throne room, bathing the expensive decorations in a warm, glorious glow. The bright morning did not reflect the mood of that morning. The dark fog had settled firmly in place, the glory of morning doing nothing but amplifying it.

"Do not raise your voice to me, Cecil!" the Marques Caelin finally commanded. "Yes, she fled in the night... With a mercenary."

"_Who!" _Cecil demanded. "Who dares take my Madelyn from me?"

"He is called Hassar."

"Hassar!? No civilized mother would name a child '_Hassar_'!"

Lord Hausen let out a long sigh. The man appeared years older than he truly was, awake since his awakening last night and exhausted from anger. "Right you are, Cecil."

Something visibly broke inside the man on the floor. All the rage, all the angry energy, left him. "A Sacaen. He is a Sacaen."

"He is."

"...I will never forgive him."

"As you should not."

--------------------------------

Two days passed without incident on both accounts, followed by two more. The fugitives remained elusive, the soldiers remained in the dark. In the back of her mind, the princess noted with some glee that the date of her wedding had come and went.

Madelyn watched as Hassar haggled with a man on the roadside. They were now in Khathelet, with Madelyn donning a cloak to conceal her identity. Word had not yet reached the area, but it was absolutely necessary that she remain hidden. Hassar, being unknown to the world outside of Sacae and Caelin, was safe to wander in the daylight.

She glanced ruefully to their steed and felt a large pang of guilt settle in her stomach. He was broken, too tired to go on. The steed had been pushed beyond his limit, and they could not wait for it to recover. She had cost him his most beloved possession: his horse.

Hassar was now forced to trade his beloved, trustworthy steed ("He is just worn out. You have on my word as a man, he will recover and be ten times as steady as any one you've got.") and what little gold he could spare for a generic Bernese mount. Madelyn's guilt was crippling, even though Hassar assured her it was fine; that this would be good for them, because a Bernese horse is much different from a Sacaen, and would therefore throw the soldiers off their trail.

She pretended that she didn't see the quick, near-tearful look her beloved gave his first true love as he bid it goodbye.

----------------------------

"Sir Wallace!"

The general slowed his horse as the redheaded knight trotted to his side.

"We have fantastic news! A boy was playing on his family's land two days ago, and told his mother that he spotted a strange man and woman riding by on a large horse. They were headed on the trail to Khathelet, and have probably passed by now."

"How do you know the child isn't telling a tale?"

"How could a child create such a convenient tale when he had no news of such strangers?"

Wallace clenched his jaw. "True enough. What does this mean for us?"

The knight withdrew his map. "Sir, we are between Khathalet and Tuscana (3). If we forego your plans to head directly to Araphen, we can head them off before they reach the river. There is only one logical passing over the river that separates Bern and Sacae, and we can block it. We will need to speed up, of course, but we can do it."

The knight handed his map over to his general. Wallace scrutinized the plan, searching for, hoping for, a way to sabotage it reasonably. The plan was choppy at best, but would certainly be effective if he didn't do anything to save his dear friend. Sucking in a deep breath, the general shoved the paper back into its owner's hands and gave the man a rough pat on the back.

"Good man! That boy of yours is going to be one fine soldier one day."

"Thank you, sir."

"Tell the troops to pick up the pace. Time's running low, my boy!"

They had two and a half days.

----------------------------

WC: Okay, sorry. There will be ONE more chapter, I promise, and it will be up ASAP. I start school in two days, so I'll try hard to get this finished up.

(1)Understand that I have NO concept of time in regard to distance. One week may well be an unreasonable amount of time, but it's my fic and I said it takes a week, so it does. (Even though, I believe, it actually took Lyn & Co. a year to make it from Sacae to Caelin...) According to a map I found online, Sacae is North-east from Lycia. I could not find Caelin on this map, but unless it happens to be in Ilia or one of those other places that weren't important, it is South-west from Sacae no matter where it actually is. Unless it's in Eastern Bern. For some reason, this map isn't familiar to me. I always thought of Bern as being in the North, Ilia to its northwest, Lycia south of them, Sacae being the farthest south, and Etruia to the west. The map is found on the Serenes Forest website.

(2)This is my explanation for how Hassar and Madelyn got away with it. Hassar is, to the best of my knowledge, a Sacaen prince. Therefore, in my world, he would be able to grant her sanctuary.

(3)This may or may not be the name of a city in Lycia/Bern It's hard to read.


	5. Chapter 5

**Caged Bird  
Wandering Cat** (soon with name change!)  
**Chapter 5, Final Chapter!**

Hello, people! Finally, I'm here to finish off this beast that's more than a year in the making.

**NOTE:** You may want to reread the end of Chapter 4 because I changed some things around: while formulating the plan and picking random cities off a map to use in it, I got them screwed up- Madelyn and Hassar were supposed to be in Khathalet, while Wallace and company should have been near there, headed to Araphen. I went back and changed it. Another important thing I overlooked is that, when looking at the map, I failed to notice the explanation of Caelin's absence; turns out, the Japanese name is used: Ciaran, which is south-west of Kathelet. This doesn't affect anything, though.

Also, I was in a hurry when I was writing, so this may be edited at a later time.

Aside from that, there's nothing else to say that I haven't already said: no MS word, format weird, fire bad, etc.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem or the poem "Sympathy".  
----------------------------

The sun rose, and with it, the final day of their flight. Madelyn rested calmly on his back, while Hassar fought to stay awake. He'd slept only briefly during the past week, napping during the few breaks they took, but for the last two days, he refused to take the time. His love had somehow learned to sleep peacefully even at full gallop, a feat that would impress his fellow tribesmen, and was therefore fairly rested.

Hassar knew that his efforts would be worthwhile; he could smell the clean, crisp air of his homeland already. When Madelyn stirred briefly behind him and settled down again, he felt in his heart that he was doing the right thing. Somehow, Caelin had bred a real wildflower. To confine it to a fancy garden should be a crime.

When they stopped and Hassar wasn't sleeping, he noticed a change in the noblewoman. He saw the deep, warm happiness in her eyes as she took in the surroundings that were nowhere close to what she had spent her whole life surrounded by. He saw that even though they were in a dangerous, frantic situation (for him, anyway), she was actually enjoying the trip. Hassar noted, in the back of his mind, that being able to see the bright side of any misfortune was an excellent trait for a Sacaen woman; it was wasted in the relatively confident, constant world of a Lycian noblewoman, as there was never a bad angle to be seen from that point of view.

Madelyn woke behind him with a yawn. "Good morning," he said quietly. She smiled into the back of his neck.

"Are we there yet?"

"One more day, love. We should reach the river by sundown, and once we cross that, we're in Sacae."

"I can't wait," she sighed.

_Neither can I_, thought Hassar. _This nightmare of a journey will be complete, and we will be __home._  
--------------------------------------

"Come on now, men!" bellowed the large general, "Have you no love for your home!? Do you _want_ that man to steal away your princess!?"

The cluster of soldiers responded with a resounding shout: "NO, SIR!"

Little did they know that Wallace was not giving the same effort- at least, not for the same cause. As he spoke, Wallace was stripping off his heavy armor, preparing for his plan. The troops had produced for him their strongest steed (for even without the armor, he was a big man), setting it up with only a small saddlebag of supplies and a lance.

According to the general, brute force and intimidation would be detrimental, not helpful, to the situation. Therefore, Wallace produced this plan: While the troops took a two-hour rest, Wallace would head out alone toward the river pass and wait for Madelyn and Hassar. He would be able to move faster and quieter without the troops. As Hassar's former good friend, the nomad would listen to him and would be stalled, or if worse came to worse, Wallace would be more than enough to guard the pass. The troops, marching twice as fast as before, would catch up, and they could then capture the nomad and rescue the princess. Foolproof! "Is everybody clear, then?" asked the general, and given no negative response, he gave a wide grin and continued. "Well, then! Off I go! Rest up well, good sirs. You don't want to look raggedy when we find Lady Madelyn, do you?" The troops gave a good-natured laugh.

Wallace made a mental note to pat himself of the back when he was out of eyeshot. He climbed (awkwardly) into the saddle, but as he was about to head off, a gloved hand grabbed his forearm. He looked down and met the eyes of the redheaded knight.

"Sir, I don't think it wise for you to go alone. You are unarmored, and barely armed."

"What's your point, boy?"

"Well, sir, I would like to accompany you. I can hide myself when the nomad draws near so he does not become suspicious, but if he tries to run, I can chase him."

Wallace grit his teeth. "I don't think that is necessary. I can handle this, and you need to rest."

The redheaded knight's sharp eyes bore into the general's. "I feel fine. I think that my presence will not hinder our mission." His hand gripped Wallace's arm harder.

_Dammit._ "...Welcome aboard, my good man."  
-----------------------------------------

Ker-clop, ker-clop, ker-clop, ker-clop... The sound of the horse's hooves pounding on the barren ground echoed inside his head, worsening the splitting headache that was already tearing his skull in two. Ker-clop, ker-clop, ker-clop, ker-clop...

Exhaustion was driving Hassar insane, the pounding heat from the sun and radiating off the horse adding to his discomfort. The only grasp he had on sanity was the woman clinging to his back. It was strange, but the only thing that made sense to him at the moment was her.

"Ohh, look Hassar!" Madelyn suddenly gasped into his pounding ear, loud enough to be heard over the endless beat. His dull gaze glanced in the direction that she was indicating, slowing the horse's pace to get a better look. On a sparse tree not ten feet away, a pair of lovely bluejays nested. "Did I tell you, I had a pet bluejay once? A short while before I met you."

"You did. What..." Hassar's mind went blank briefly, but he shook it off. "What happened to him, again?"

The princess gave a soft smile that he could see out of the corner of his eye. "I set him free. You see, one day another little bird came to my window, and I looked at Apollo- that was his name, Apollo- and back at the bird, and I could see that it was time I let him go."

"Like us..." The blankness came back, this time with dizziness and nausea.

Still contemplating the birds that were now in the past, Madelyn did not see. "Yes, like us."

With that, the man in front of her grasped his head with a loud, suffering groan. As fast as Madelyn could turn her head, he swayed and pitched off the horse onto the cold, hard ground.  
-----------------------------

Wallace and the redheaded knight continued their race against time as they headed north-east toward the river. Their two-hour head-start was over now, but it would take the troops at least that long to catch up. The general gave a sideways glance at the knight he rode with- the knight that ruined his plan, ruined everything.

_Hassar, my friend, please forgive me... I tried. Oh god, Lady Madelyn, I tried so hard for you, for your happiness. _

Wallace quickly cast his eyes ahead of him when the knight glanced his way, sharp eyes boring into the side of Wallace's head.. _He's not a bad man,_ Wallace assured himself, _he's doing what he thinks is right. Even if what he thinks is completely wrong.  
_----------------------------- 

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god..."

Madelyn was frantic, more worried than she'd ever been in her entire life. The man she loved was laying on the ground, motionless except for his breathing. His fall had upset the horse, confusing it with the movement of the reins and sudden lack of pressure on its sides, leaving it without direction, and so it kept up its gallop. Madelyn, having never ridden a horse in the open, clumsily managed to take control and turn it around, almost stepping on the man on the ground.

She was now kneeling at Hassar's side, blaming herself for his condition because there was no way this _wasn't_ her fault somehow, the agony in her heart intensified by the fact that she had _no_ idea what to do. She tried shaking him, but to no avail. He wouldn't wake. Madelyn hopped up and wrestled her canteen from the saddlebags, dropping again to her knees to try and feed him some water. Careful not to drown him, she pried open his dry lips and poured in some water. He stirred slightly, licking his lips and moaning.

"Hassar? Hassar, please!" she pleaded.

He groaned in response and shifted a little, but otherwise didn't move.

"Oh, god...I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! Here, can you- I don't know- can you try and get on the horse, Hassar?"

He shifted more, managing to turn himself over to lie on his side. Madelyn helped as much as she could, and between the two of them, Hassar was able to shove himself up, and he stumbled forward, throwing his upper body into the horse's shoulders. It whinnied, but a calming hand on his face, Madelyn's, prompted him to stay still. She stood, feeling rather useless, as he clumsily shoved a foot into a stirrup and threw his leg over its back. Once in the saddle, Hassar slumped forward, resting his throbbing head between the horse's velvety ears.

"We can't waste any more time, Madelyn." he croaked, "Keep on in the same direction as before, the bridge should be right in front of us in half an hour."

Even though he couldn't see it, Madelyn nodded sternly. She would do this for herself and for him. Climbing in behind him and taking the reigns, a new wave of confidence washed over her.

"Madelyn," Hassar said as the horse beneath him began to move. "I love you."

At that, she urged the horse to run even faster. Now, with his confidence merging with her own, Madelyn felt the doubts fall out of mind. Nothing could stop her now.  
--------------------------------

"Well, would you look at that!" exclaimed the knight. "Right where it's supposed to be. I think that we can consider our mission accomplished, sir!"

His horse was slowed to a stop, hooves clomping in an almost friendly manner on the wooden bridge, grateful for the rest.

Wallace grit his teeth, lips dragged upward into a fake smile. He and the knight had arrived at their destination: a wide bridge that separated Bern from Sacae, the only pass over the river that was a border between them. If the princess and the nomad could cross this bridge, they would be out of Caelin's authority, and they would be free. _If only_, thought Wallace.

"Well, my good lad, can you tell if that scoundrel has passed yet? We aren't too late, are we?" he said that last part with more enthusiasm than was necessary, but there was no point in hiding it now, as long as he didn't state his intent outright.

"'Fraid not, General Wallace." said the knight. "Nobody's crossed this bridge all day. It rained last night, so if somebody had, there would be mud on it. It's clean."

"What if they passed yesterday?"

"According to eyewitnesses, the first leg of their journey was confused. They wasted a day. I take it, they didn't plan anything at the beginning." (1)

Wallace set his jaw harder. "Fantastic. I suppose it is a waiting game, now."

"Right you are, sir."  
--------------------------------------

Twenty minutes after taking the reigns in her hands, Madelyn felt stronger than ever. Ten minutes more, and she would be in her new home with the man she loved. That does not mean, of course, that her former life would be completely abandoned; if a few days, she planned to send a letter to her father, apologizing for the heartache she'd caused and explaining herself. She knew that he would forgive her. Not seeing or hearing anything threatening, Madelyn allowed the horse to trot in a more friendly pace, lost in her thoughts.

On the horizon minutes later, she could see the river, and the bridge, and... two mounted men on it? _Oh, no,_ she thought. She let the horse move another few yards, behind a cluster of trees growing close together. From her new position, Madelyn's greatest fears were realized. The two men were none other than Caelin knights, waiting, undoubtedly, to drag her back to what they thought was her home, not knowing that they were really taking her away from it. _They'll kill Hassar in body, and they'll kill me in heart._  
--------------------------------------

"Did you see that, General Wallace?" the redheaded knight asked. His sharp eyes were glued to several trees not one hundred yards away.

"I did not. What did you see?" Fear gripped the General's belly. "What was it?!" he bellowed, loud enough to be heard a mile away...  
------------------------------------------

Madelyn heard the exclamation and she froze. Wallace, the General. Wallace, the man who was Hassar's best friend. Wallace, who would be the one to tear her heart out. The thought was painful, so much so that it physically hurt and she winced. When she was able to look up again, Madelyn watched through the thicket as the mounted General pranced his horse in front of the other man's, his large body obstructing the knight's view. Wallace turned his body toward the man and then, unusually, drew one of his large arms behind his back.

Madelyn watched with interest. Her heart began beating again a moment later, when the General manipulated his hand behind his back, flashing to her, where the other man could not see it, a series of hand signals used amongst the Lycian League:

_Do not fear me, I am your friend, I want to help you. I promise._

Hope wormed its way into Madelyn's heart.  
-------------------------------

The knight's face took on a suspicious expression. "What are you doing, sir?"

"What does it look like, boy? Blasted heat's made my back sweat, and it's itchy." he removed his arm from behind him, hoping that his message was understood and trusted. "Now, what were you trying to show me?"

The knight sighed and once again indicated the trees. "I do believe I saw some movement over there, sir. Whatever it was, it's too large to be a wild animal, and if it left, we'd have seen it."

Wallace turned around, staring directly at Madelyn, although he could not see her through the branches. "Well, man, go check it out! Quietly, now, go slowly at first! Sneak up on them! We may well have our princess right under our very noses!" he gave a hearty, fake belly laugh, as was characteristic of him when he felt victorious.

The laugh was certainly loud enough for Madelyn to hear, but she remained still, not daring to move for fear that the vigilant redheaded knight would see her. Fear shot through her as the knight guided his horse slowly forward, toward her. As soon as the knight was not looking at him, Wallace began making frantic arm motions, forgoing the signals, gesturing to his left (Madelyn's right, the opposite direction from which the knight was approaching), making a wide arc.

A load groan sounded suddenly in front of her, surprising Madelyn so she jumped and squealed. Hassar, dead to the world since his collapse, unaware of their current situation, shoved himself to sit upright, Madelyn too overcome with a combination of joy (at his apparent well-being) and fear (that his sudden movements were too conspicuous) to stop it.

"...Madelyn, what-" Hassar began, but stopped immediately when he heard charging hoofbeats pounding closer and closer to their location. A javelin shattered the silence, thrown by an expert hand but missing, succeeding only in startling the horse.

The sudden movement sent a throb of pain through Hassar's head, effectively disabling him again, while Madelyn's heart skipped a beat as she barely kept hold of the reigns.

"You fool!" she could hear in the distance, "You could hit _Madelyn_!" The General was booming in the distance, quickly approaching her location.

Suddenly remembering Wallace's desperate gesticulations, she kicked hard into the horse's side, spurring him forward just as the redheaded knight burst into the thicket behind her, his horse's face tickled by her horse's tail hair as he took off.

She urged him on more, fear gripping her heart, rendering it unable to beat. They flew out from the trees, making a wide arc around them (a small part of her mind realized what Wallace meant before as she did so), pointing the horse toward the bridge that would be the difference between happiness and despair for her, as Hassar tried to ward off the pain in front of her.

The redheaded knight appeared by her side suddenly, looking as determined as could be. He looked as if he were about to say something to her when Wallace, even more suddenly, cut in front of him. The knight's horse started and bucked, throwing its rider from the saddle, landing with a bone-chilling crunch.

Madelyn slowed down, partially because of the good person in her wanting to be sure the knight was okay, mostly because Hassar once again forced himself to sit up.

He blinked the confusion and pain from his eyes, finally feeling healthy enough to think. His sharp mind processed the information quickly, and he finally understood.

The knight lay still on the ground, his horse twitching skittishly nearby, with Wallace, managing to calm his own steed, looming over him. Feeling as though something were amiss, he turned around, shocked to see his lady and her lover atop their steed (a different one, he noticed, that they set out on), standing still.

"What are you doing, you idiots!?" he shouted. As his voice reached them, a small flood of troops came pouring down over the horizon, drowning out all other noise as they drew nearer and nearer. "Go while you have the chance!"

His words were unheard by the clamoring troops, their armor and tramping feet making too much noise.

It took a moment for the General's words to sink in before either could react. Hassar took the reigns from Madelyn's still hands and snapped them, commanding the horse to begin moving. The soldiers pooled around their General and the fallen comrade, some kneeling beside him.

Madelyn buried her face into Hassar's back, hugging him close to her as the horse trotted at a comfortable pace toward the bridge, closing the gap between them and their freedom.

The troops watched their General do nothing, confusion clouding every face. Several men tried to get Wallace's attention, but it was fixed on the man and woman now crossing the bridge.

The horse's hooves clapped softly against the wooden planks, crossing the bowed center, and then falling silent when they touched the grassy earth on the other side.

"Welcome to Sacae, my love." Hassar whispered, turning in the saddle to face her. Madelyn's eyes welled up and she gave him a bright smile.

A few mounted soldiers, frustrated with their apparent failure and their General's apparent apathy about it, began their charge, bearing down on the stationery mount and its riders. They raised their javelins, prepared to strike.

"Stop, you imbeciles!" boomed the General.

The soldiers skidded to a halt, enraged but invariably obedient.

"You can't do anything about it now."

Wallace's eyes pierced the distance between them, linking with Hassar's. His face feigned grave , his eyes nonetheless grinned. Madelyn looked up, too, wearing her emotions for all to see but for few to understand.

Mouthing two short words of gratitude each, Madelyn and Hassar turned their backs on the herd of soldiers and their one common friend, and with a kick of his heels, their steed flew off again, not because they were in a hurry, but because they couldn't wait for their new life to come.

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!  
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;  
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,  
And the river flows like a stream of glass;  
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,  
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals —  
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing  
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;  
For he must fly back to his perch and cling  
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;  
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars  
And they pulse again with a keener sting —  
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,  
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—  
When he beats his bars and he would be free;  
It is not a carol of joy or glee,  
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,  
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings —  
I know why the caged bird sings!  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WC: And lo, it's finally done, holy crap!! Thank you all for reading, and for all the support! Love ya!

Wow, the end was really, really hard to write. I hope it's okay, since this fic really is my pride n' joy now. Yes, the hand signals were a crappy excuse. That's the kind of convenience that I subscribe to!

Let's see..what else to say...Well, yes, "the redheaded knight" is indeed Kent's father. And yes, he is the bad guy here, but without really being the bad guy...Get it? He's just doing his duty, but it's that which makes him the antagonist here. I considered naming him, but I decided leaving him nameless would be better...I don't know why.

(1) Remember way back in whatever chapter when Hassar was beating himself up because he didn't plot a course at the beginning? Yeah, I do, and I just used it as a flimsy reason as to why they didn't get to Sacae before the knights (in addition to Hassar's accident slowing them down, but it wasn't for long), considering that they had at least a few hours of a head start.


End file.
